


I'll Leave Myself To Your Fingers (So Play Me However You Want)

by stereoslash



Category: Produce X 101 (TV), UNIQ (Band), UP10TION, X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon Universe, Friends to Lovers, M/M, happy fucking birthday cho seungyoun, here's a smut fic to celebrate your 23rd, the way these tags make me want to stab myself in the eye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 01:49:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20107183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stereoslash/pseuds/stereoslash
Summary: Wooseok knew he shouldn’t expect too much from a proposal that literally had the word ‘bro’ in it, but he hadn’t really thought that things would turn out the way they did.





	I'll Leave Myself To Your Fingers (So Play Me However You Want)

**Author's Note:**

> A remix of my most kudosed work for my favorite all rounder's 23rd. Set in X1’s third year of promotions. Title taken from "Hands on Me" as performed by the boys of Produce 101 Season Two.

It’s classic Cho Seungyoun to break the silence by asking, “Bro, should we get married someday?” — so much so that Wooseok doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t even look up from where he’s scrolling absentmindedly through his phone gallery when he hears the inquiry.

“Are you putting a ring on me, bro?” is Wooseok’s response, the tiniest hints of laughter and teasing coloring his tone.

“If you say yes, then I will.”

“Sure. I don’t see why not.”

And maybe it’s a little anticlimactic considering how nonchalant Wooseok had been about the whole thing, but this was Seungyoun, and it’s always been hard to tell whether he’s being serious or not (because marriage was a dumb idea, but Seungyoun has been dead set on dozens of dumb ideas countless times before). So when Wooseok finally looks up from his phone screen, it’s to deliver a line that he was sure would knock the older male a little off-kilter.

“You know we’re gonna have to have sex, right?” he asks, and Seungyoun looks like a deer in the headlights, too-small eyes growing that much wider in surprise; and Wooseok bites back a grin — an easy feat considering the fact that he had long since perfected his poker face — before plowing on.

“You better do your research, hyung. I’m not letting you bullshit your way through this one when my ass is on the line.”

Seungyoun’s still staring blankly into space when Wooseok walks out of the living room.

* * *

“So, uh. Butt sex. How does that work?”

Yohan’s hand stops midway through stuffing a honey butter chip into his own mouth, jaw slack as he looks up at Seungyoun in disbelief.

“Come again?”

Seungyoun hesitates, weight shifting from one foot to the other, and Yohan prompts him — with a wave of his free hand — to get on with it.

“Anal. How do you. I mean. How do you do it?” Seungyoun finally says, and Yohan bares his teeth in a wicked grin.

All of the members know fully well that trouble was bound to come their way once Yohan flashes that particular smile at them, and worry bleeds into Seungyoun’s expression right on cue, moving as if to leave the room — but it’s too late, because Yohan’s yanking at Seungyoun’s wrist and causing the elder to fall onto the bed beside him, his other hand wiping the remnants of his late night snack onto his shirt (Yohan had never really been awfully concerned about personal hygiene); and it’s when Yohan’s booting up his laptop, having grabbed it from the bedside table, that the silence is broken once more.

“Not that you didn’t come to the right place, but why did you ask _me_ of all people?” the younger male asks, fingers drumming impatiently beside the touchpad as the laptop powers on.

Seungyoun shoots him a look, as if to ask “are we seriously having this conversation?” and _oh_. Of course. Yohan and Seungwoo _did_ have a thing after all, back in the group’s early days, and it wasn’t exactly a secret that Yohan was taking X1’s precious leader up the ass (they weren’t exactly subtle, and even if they were, Yohan was a very touchy, very _vocal_ drunk who would have gladly told everyone and their mother just how badly he wanted Seungwoo’s dick). In an attempt to steer the conversation away from himself, Yohan hurls another wrench into the gears — “Why are you so curious, anyway?” — and when the tips of Seungyoun’s ears turn a deep shade of red, Yohan declares ‘Operation: Remove My Sex Life From The Discussion’ a resounding success.

Truth be told, Yohan was prepared for a myriad of embarrassing explanations — from popping awkward boners around any of their seniors to having the urge to kiss the living daylights out of both Seungwoo and Hangyul (Satan knows that Yohan felt the same). But the actual reason — “I might have asked Wooseok to marry me.” — comes as a complete surprise.

“You _what_?”

“I might have asked Wooseok to marry me.” Seungyoun repeats, words ringing a little louder this time but coming out no less sheepish.

“O…kay?” the screen beckons Yohan to log onto his account, but he pays it no mind, instead electing to focus on the male seated beside him. “Why, though? Don’t you have to be, I don’t know, _in love_ to get married?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve all been a little too busy to fall in love,” Seungyoun begins, pointedly avoiding the other’s gaze, “and I’m not getting any younger. I take care of Wooseok and he takes care of me. I figured, if I couldn’t trust him enough to marry him, then who _can_ I trust?”

“All right, then, cheeseball.” Yohan quips with a roll of the eyes. “Did he say yes?”

“Why do you think I’m here?” comes the retort, and it would be too much, really, to expect Yohan not to snort.

“Figures our little Ice Prince wouldn’t settle for some clumsy dicking. Don’t worry, though. I know just the thing.”

And if Seungyoun gets permanent mental scarring after being forced to watch anything and everything from triple penetration to twelve-inch dildos slipping in and out of various orifices, well — Yohan would argue that the older male _really_ should have known better than to come to him for help.

* * *

“I heard you talked to Yohan.” is the first thing Wooseok says, bursting into Seungyoun’s room and practically inviting himself to lay beside the taller male. He’s got a magazine clutched in his hands, some random issue of CeCi that he’d lifted from the coffee table without looking, and he’s flipping idly through the pages as soon as he’s gotten comfortable.

“I did.” Seungyoun sounds cautious, not at all like his usual riotous self, and it makes Wooseok want to grin — but he resists. He pretends to scan the pages instead, eyes running over sentences but not registering any of them, expression carefully blank and voice purposely nonchalant.

“And did you learn anything?”

“I guess I did? I’m not really sure, though. I mean, it’s gonna take some time and —”

“— practice, yeah. I know.”

“Wait, what?” Seungyoun sounds genuinely lost, so lost that it was almost (read: painfully) endearing, and Wooseok decides that the magazine has served its purpose for the day — and so he closes it, delicate hands folded atop the cover as he looks up at the elder.

“I said,” Wooseok says, making sure that his words rang loud and clear, “that it’s the kind of thing that takes practice. Don’t you agree?”

Seungyoun looks like he just might die. “I guess? But Wooseok, I’m not exactly sure what you —”

“Good. Wanna fuck?”

* * *

Junho’s on his second bowl of kongnamulguk when Wooseok and Seungyoun stumble into the dining room for breakfast. Neither of them look like they’d slept much, Junho notes, and his eyes are immediately drawn to the numerous bite marks littering Wooseok’s neck — so he puts his spoon down and leans closer to Wooseok in order to get a better view of the indentations, a finger darting out to poke at the skin only to have the elder’s hand slap it away.

“You look like a chew toy.” Junho states, his words earning him a glare from Wooseok, but Yohan seems all too eager to contribute to the conversation.

“You’re damn right, he does.” Yohan agrees through a mouthful of rice, and Junho would have been disgusted if he hadn’t already been desensitized to the elder’s habits. “Are you a _baby_, Cho Seungyoun? Are you _teething_?”

Junho purses his lips in order to fight off the grin that’s threatening to spread, eyes scanning Wooseok’s and Seungyoun’s faces in order to gauge their reactions. Wooseok, Junho observed, looked absolutely miffed — but then again that was pretty standard for Wooseok, he supposes. Seungyoun, on the other hand, looked as if what he wanted more than anything was for the ground to swallow him whole.

“Easy, Yohan.” Junho could hear the smile in Hangyul’s voice as he speaks, one hand wrapped around a cup of coffee as he steps closer to the table. “Did you two have fun?”

“He owes me an orgasm. Or two. Or three.” Wooseok deadpans, stirring some chili paste into his bowl of soup — and Yohan _howls_, face falling onto the dining table with a fist thumping against the wood.

Junho watches, utterly puzzled, as Hangyul groans and fishes out a handful of crumpled bills from his pocket before shoving them into Yohan’s outstretched hand.

When Yohan finally stops laughing long enough to breathe, he presses kisses onto the bills and says, “Thanks for being bad in bed, Cho Dumbyoun. I’m now fifty thousand won richer.”

Turning to Wooseok, Yohan adds, “I bet you’re glad you asked him to practice. Imagine waking up like _this_ after your wedding night.”

Junho notices the twitch in Wooseok’s features before the rest of them do, the twitch that usually precedes a tug on the ear or a smack upside the head — but Wooseok does neither, instead grabbing a hold of Seungyoun’s sleeve to tug him up and out of his seat, leading the taller male out of the dining room and leaving their breakfasts untouched.

At their departure, Yohan resumes howling in laughter.

* * *

Wooseok is silent as he leads Seungyoun through the halls, pointedly ignoring the other’s queries — which mainly consisted of several repetitions of “Where are we going?” and “What are you doing?” He all but drags Seungyoun into the older male’s room, locking the door behind them with far too much force than what was probably needed, but Wooseok was just a few shades shy of livid — and so he took comfort in the knowledge that the sound would most likely startle Yohan enough to fall face first into his breakfast. Wooseok strips down then, pulling off his shirt before moving on to his boxers, and he’s got one leg out of the material when Seungyoun finally speaks.

“What are you doing?”

It’s that godforsaken question again, and Wooseok rolls his eyes as he climbs onto the bed stark naked.

“We’re not leaving this room until everyone can hear how good you make me feel.” Wooseok states, blunt and to the point, and Seungyoun chokes on air.

“But last night —”

“I’ll walk you through it. I’ll tell you what feels good and what doesn’t.”

Seungyoun nods, and Wooseok can almost hear the older male psyching himself up as he takes two, three steps closer to the bed. “Okay.”

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Wooseok asks when the seconds tick by without Seungyoun doing anything, and it’s enough to make him wonder why he fe — agreed to marry Seungyoun of all people.

“I mean. It’s just.”

“Just what?” there’s impatience lacing Wooseok’s tone, one hand pushing a few strands of hair out of his eyes as he looks up at the elder expectantly, and the response — “Isn’t it a bit weird that I’m fully clothed and you’re… not?” — has his eyes rolling towards the heavens.

“Are you actually being serious right n — oh just take your clothes off, for fuck’s sake.” Wooseok prompts none too patiently, and Seungyoun (by some miracle) does. Soon he’s got the taller male in the space between his legs, but Seungyoun looks as lost as ever and Wooseok rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time (they’d be endlessly rolling at this rate, he thinks) before pulling Seungyoun in for a kiss.

This part, at least, doesn’t require that much guidance on Wooseok’s part. Despite being clumsy with almost everything else, Seungyoun is a pretty good (read: _great_) kisser, and Wooseok’s lips part under the elder’s all too easily. It isn’t long before Wooseok’s rutting up against the thigh wedged between his legs, working himself to full hardness and letting out an approving hum as Seungyoun’s hands begin to roam his skin.

Wooseok breaks away long enough to guide Seungyoun’s hands onto his chest, a whispered “here,” prompting the other to brush his thumbs against each nipple, a shiver running down Wooseok’s spine as a result. Seungyoun takes the hint, rolling the nubs in between his fingers, and Wooseok tilts his head to one side; baring the teeth marks on his neck and pressing a finger against one of them.

“Mouth,” is all he says, unwilling to utter more than a single word at a time, but Seungyoun seems hesitant, unsure, and so he elaborates (“Don’t use your teeth.”). But it isn’t enough, and he has to suck a bruise onto Seungyoun’s collarbone to demonstrate — earning a groan from the elder — and Wooseok doesn’t miss the way Seungyoun’s hips press blindly onto the sheets.

Seungyoun’s lips move to his neck then, erring on the side of sloppy as he tries to replicate the way Wooseok’s mouth had moved but enjoyable all the same. Wooseok cranes his neck even further, baring more of it, and Seungyoun obliges; blood rushing towards the surface of the skin as Seungyoun mouths over it. Wooseok’s got his eyes closed, one hand slipping in the space between their bodies to wrap around the elder’s length, and Seungyoun moans against his neck — the vibration echoing across Wooseok’s frame. Wooseok gives two, three strokes; thumb sweeping across the other’s slit before uttering a whispered order for the lube. Seungyoun sits up — Wooseok becoming all too aware of the loss of warmth — and grabs the bottle from where they’d left it lying sideways on top of the bedside table last night, squeezing a generous amount onto his fingers.

“Warm it up first.” Wooseok reminds the other, taking the opportunity to catch his breath.

Seungyoun does, digits rubbing against each other before a finger pushes past Wooseok’s hole, the intrusion being met with no resistance given the fact that Wooseok’s still partially stretched from the night before. Wooseok motions for Seungyoun to add another, miming a scissoring motion with his own fingers which the elder copies, the slight burn of the stretch drawing a hum from in between Wooseok’s lips. At his instruction, Seungyoun’s fingers begin drawing in and out, Wooseok meeting them halfway as he grinds down — and Seungyoun looks a little dazed, mouth parted slightly as his eyes rake across Wooseok’s skin.

There’s precome streaked across Wooseok’s stomach, leaking from his slit — and then he’s crying out, Seungyoun having added another finger and brushing against a spot that caused Wooseok to tense up. Wooseok sees the panic flaring up behind Seungyoun’s eyes, feels Seungyoun’s hand start to pull away — and so delicate fingers move to latch around Seungyoun’s wrist, eyes fixed on the other’s as he grinds down onto Seungyoun’s digits slowly, deliberately, until Seungyoun gets the message and pushes against that same spot.

It doesn’t take long for Wooseok to lose all coherence, head thrown back and moans slipping out of his mouth as he pushes back against the other’s fingers, vaguely aware of the gaze burning into his skin through the fog clouding his brain. Seungyoun’s free hand latches around one nipple, prompting a full-body shiver, before laving his tongue over the peak — and Wooseok comes, hands twisting in the sheets and thighs shaking from the force of it.

Seungyoun’s smirking at him when he comes down from his high, and Wooseok knows that look — self-absorbed and conceited as all hell — and it’s almost as if he can _hear_ the words before Seungyoun has even uttered them.

“I made you come untouched.” Seungyoun says, predictably, with that self-satisfied little smirk still splayed across his lips.

Wooseok presses his mouth against Seungyoun’s just to shut him up.

* * *

Seungwoo has his feet propped on top of the coffee table, head hidden behind a back issue of CeCi magazine as he tries and fails to ignore the chaos surrounding him. It was ridiculous, he thinks, how Yohan and Hangyul could keep repeating the same noises over and over again even after two hours — Yohan replicating Wooseok’s breathless whines and Hangyul filling in the spaces with an exaggerated version of Seungyoun’s grunts — but he supposed it couldn’t be helped, not when Seungyoun and Wooseok had made absolutely no effort to remain silent.

Seungwoo would bet an arm and a leg that it was all Wooseok’s idea, and truth be told he was surprised that the younger male couldn’t predict how it would all backfire terribly. Seungwoo had tried to shut both Hangyul and Yohan up, he really, really had — but it wasn’t as if anyone ever _listened _to him anyway, and the pair were even less likely to obey when they were having far too much fun.

Seungwoo’s fully expecting the glare that Wooseok shoots Yohan and Hangyul as he steps inside the living room, hair still damp from the shower he’d taken with Seungyoun — but he hadn’t been prepared for the smug expression on Seungyoun’s face or the bruise blooming across Wooseok’s cheek.

“Slipped and hit my face on the shower wall.” Wooseok explains the moment Seungwoo’s mouth falls open, saving him the trouble of asking. “This _idiot_ couldn’t even hold onto my hips properly.”

“You told me to keep going, though.” Seungyoun quips, sitting beside Wooseok on the couch and draping an arm across the younger male’s shoulders; refusing to budge even as Wooseok tries to shake him off.

“I see.” Seungwoo nods, dutifully restraining himself from commenting any further — instead reading through the magazine and squinting at a suspicious-looking stain sitting on the corner of one page. “You should put some ice on that.”

“Later.” Wooseok agrees, and Seungwoo dared to hope that it would be the end of it, that he would actually be able to read his magazine in peace, but of course Yohan chose that precise moment to speak up.

“How many more orgasms does he owe you, Seok?” Yohan asks, eyes glinting with mirth.

“None,” Seungyoun replies before Wooseok could speak up, and Seungwoo figures that this is why Seungyoun looked pretty damn smug in the first place, “my debt is fully paid.”

“Shut up,” is the last thing Seungwoo hears before he flees to the kitchen, the image of Wooseok elbowing Seungyoun in the ribs burning into his mind and pulling a resigned sigh from his lips.

* * *

Wooseok figures that there’s absolutely no way that he could back out now — not when he’s standing in front of a full-length mirror clad in a white three-piece suit (just another gear in the machine borne out of four grueling months of planning), Byungchan fussing over the hem of Wooseok’s slacks.

“Byungchan, it looks _fine_. You need to relax.” Wooseok states, not for the first time — but the younger merely silences him with a look and Wooseok wisely reverts his gaze to his own reflection.

Planning the wedding hadn’t been easy even with Seungwoo and Byungchan shouldering most of the work. The three of them knew from the get-go that Seungyoun wouldn’t be much help (“Look at him. He has trouble coordinating his wardrobe, for goodness sake.” Byungchan had said, never mind the fact that literally no one in their friend group coordinated their wardrobes save for Byungchan himself), opting instead to only consult Seungyoun in matters involving food. It was only meant to be an intimate affair anyway, seeing as they couldn’t very well broadcast the wedding given Korea’s views on same-sex relationships and X1’s presence within the industry, and Wooseok had asked himself — how hard could it be to plan a wedding?

Pretty damn hard, it seems. The three of them — Wooseok, Byungchan, and Seungwoo — had to map out every single thing down to the tiniest possible detail, and within those four months Wooseok often found himself falling face first onto his and Seungyoun’s shared bed (it had only taken a week of them alternating between either of their rooms for Seungwoo to put his foot down and demand that they room together instead), color swatches swimming behind his closed eyelids.

Wooseok hadn’t minded, not initially. He couldn’t find it in himself to complain when Seungwoo and Byungchan had to deal with far more mundane details than he did, and he definitely couldn’t complain about how much stress he had to deal with when Seungyoun was always there to fuck the frustration out of him.

Yet as their wedding loomed ever closer, Seungyoun became more distant. Wooseok hadn’t noticed it at first, far too engrossed in the myriad of last-minute preparations that they were trying to settle just a mere thirty days before the wedding; but as the nights went by with Wooseok actually being able to tuck himself into bed instead of just passing right out, he realized that there was something terribly wrong with their current situation.

Seungyoun wasn’t touching him. Wooseok couldn’t remember the last time they’d fucked, or even made out, really — which was a damn shame because with all the ‘practice’ they’d been putting in (Yohan was especially inclined to use air quotes), the sex really _was_ getting better, and if Seungyoun was already more than decently skilled at kissing before this had all started, now he was downright sinful.

Still, Wooseok reasoned, maybe the stress was getting to Seungyoun too. They recently had to change caterers, after all, and Seungyoun had volunteered to take care of it so that Wooseok, Seungwoo, and Byungchan could move on to handling other matters — and so he took it upon himself to initiate. It’s something Wooseok never does — he was especially careful not to look like he was gagging for it, thank you very much — but he figured that Seungyoun might appreciate the push every once in a while.

Except that didn’t quite work, either. Pecks were okay (and Seungyoun gave him plenty), but whenever Wooseok gave the slightest inclination to deepen the kiss, the older male would somehow manage to pull away using some excuse or other. Wooseok even offered to blow Seungyoun once only to find himself being turned down because “Seungwoo asked me to pick something up” — as if listening to Seungwoo was more important than getting sucked off.

That put Wooseok right off, and — after swearing to himself that he would never offer to put his mouth on Seungyoun’s dick ever again — the rest of the days leading up to the wedding flew past in a dry, monotonous blur that had him questioning whether or not they should be getting married in the first place. Seungyoun didn’t seem very invested, after all, despite being positively hands-on with regard to the wedding preparations (in the recesses of his mind, Wooseok wished that Seungyoun would be hands-on about something else, more specifically putting his hands on Wooseok’s body — and he refused to dwell on how absolutely _pathetic_ that made him sound). Wooseok knew he shouldn’t expect too much from a proposal that literally had the word ‘bro’ in it, but he hadn’t really thought that things would turn out the way they did.

Wooseok tells Byungchan this much as soon as the taller male finishes obsessing over the state of Wooseok’s slacks, and he’s painfully unsurprised to receive no sympathy from the other.

“Listen,” Byungchan drawls, and Wooseok braces himself for another nugget of deadpan wisdom, “I have no idea what you two are doing or why the hell you’re measuring the fucks Seungyoun gives using — well, _fucks_ — but it looks like he really wants this wedding to push through. I don’t think you should be worried about Seungyoun not reciprocating.”

And Wooseok thinks Byungchan _does_ have a point; Seungyoun really did look like he wanted everything to go smoothly despite the fact that he hasn’t touched Wooseok in a month, but —

“Why are you talking about reciprocation? Byungchan, I’m not —” But Byungchan fixes Wooseok with another look, and the latter doesn’t really have much choice but to stop talking; a subtle flush beginning to creep up his neck.

It isn’t long before the ceremony is underway, Wooseok standing alongside Seungyoun who’s clad in a pitch black suit, dark strands swept upwards and away from his face (they had both decided to dye their hair black for the wedding, having agreed that it is by far the least embarrassing hair color to have in the photos which would surely be rehashed for the rest of their lives) — and Wooseok wasn’t really paying that much attention; alternating between sneaking sideways glances at the older male and wondering, yet again, whether or not any of this was a good idea (he can almost _hear_ Seungwoo chiding him for letting his mind wander during his _own wedding_, though truth be told Wooseok wasn’t exactly bothered).

He’s unable to dwell on the thought any longer because before he knows it, the preacher’s saying “You may now kiss the groom,” — off to one side, Wooseok can hear Yohan grumbling about how the latter was hoping that the preacher would refer to Wooseok as the bride — and Seungyoun leaning in is all the warning he gets before the wind is knocked out of his lungs.

The hand that’s cupping his jaw is gentle, but the pressure of Seungyoun’s mouth on his can only be described as the complete opposite. He had almost forgotten just how good Seungyoun was at kissing after a month of those chaste little pecks, and before he knows it he’s parting his lips and letting Seungyoun _take_. Too soon, Seungyoun (his _husband_, the two of them are actually _married_ now) is pulling away, leaving Wooseok slightly dazed; but he doesn’t miss how Seungyoun looks at him with hunger in his eyes, causing a shiver to run down the length of Wooseok’s spine. It vanishes as quickly as it appears, leaving behind the dopey grin that Wooseok’s used to seeing spread across Seungyoun’s lips, but the gooseflesh adorning his limbs serve to remind him that what he saw wasn’t just a trick of the light.

Wooseok remains shaken all throughout the wedding reception, and even though Seungyoun is keeping his distance — making his rounds and greeting their guests — the memory of Seungyoun’s gaze burns bright within his mind. Eventually, Wooseok’s frayed nerves start to calm down little by little as he makes rounds of his own; thanking people for attending their wedding despite the fact that they were currently tucked away on a small, out-of-the-way island. But of course that’s when Seungyoun catches his eye from across the room, flashing him that same look, and Wooseok is suddenly on edge once more — half terrified and half aroused — because Seungyoun has _never_ looked at him like this, was too awkward to even attempt it, but he somehow managed to pull it off and it was driving Wooseok mad.

It’s a relief when people finally start retreating to their rooms for the night, the carefully constructed mask that Wooseok had put on for the guests beginning to crumble inwards. He only has to deal with a few jibes and warnings from their members (“Don’t break the bed. Or the couch. Better yet, just don’t break anything. You know how Seungwoo gets when he sees additional charges on the bill.” Hangyul reminds them, the tail end of his statement being followed by Yohan’s screeching of “Have fun, you two! I bought tons of lube and left them all over your suite!”) before the crowd finally clears out, the reception hall empty save for Seungyoun and himself, and Wooseok runs a shaky hand through his hair. He should really take a cold shower, he thinks, so that he could let the water wash away his thoughts and his sins —

“Should we head up?”

Seungyoun’s voice cuts through his mess of an internal monologue and Wooseok nods, careful to keep the elder an arm’s length away as they make their way to the lift — but Seungyoun’s having none of it, one arm snaking around Wooseok’s waist to press him against the other’s side, and Wooseok’s heart threatens to beat out of his ribcage.

The elevator ride is silent, with Wooseok wanting to jump out of his own skin and Seungyoun looking as if he was composure personified — and it’s not sitting well with Wooseok at all, how Seungyoun could appear so calm and unaffected when Wooseok himself was anything but. Still, Wooseok appreciates the silence, if only for the fact that it at least gives him time to think. By the time the lift stops at their floor, Wooseok’s pretty much done planning out the rest of his night — which he hopes would consist of a cold shower followed by planting face-first onto the bed and sleeping away the frantic beating in his chest. He’s been dry and sexless for thirty nights, and he can handle one more — especially if it meant he could hold on to what remains of his sanity.

The silence persists as they step inside their room (a honeymoon suite that looks twice as stunning in real life as it does in photos) and Wooseok sets to work on stripping himself and putting the suit away carefully — he can almost hear Seungwoo rattling off the price of the outfit straight into his eardrums and imploring him not to ruin it. Behind him, he can hear Seungyoun doing the same, but he keeps his back turned — Wooseok knew full well that the last thing he needed was to lose the tiniest threads of self-control that he has left — and steps inside the massive bathroom instead.

The basins are shaped like seashells, Wooseok observes as he stalks towards one of two sinks, splashing some cold water onto his face in an attempt to ground himself. It works, for the most part, and he’s met by his own reflection once he lifts his gaze; relaxing even further when he hears the television switch on — Seungyoun must be preoccupied, he supposes, which gives him a fifteen-minute grace period before the elder’s attention span inevitably fails. He’s reaching for one of the hotel toothbrushes when he hears the bathroom door creak open, and in the mirror he can see Seungyoun leaning against the doorframe, toned arms crossed over a bare chest.

“Taking a shower?” the elder asks, and Wooseok nods. “I’ll join you.”

“No, it’s fine,” Wooseok says, a little too quickly, but he’s proud of how little his voice shakes as he responds. “I won’t take long, I promise. You should just — watch TV while you wait.”

“But you see,” Seungyoun begins, and Wooseok can hear the elder’s bare feet padding across the tile, could see Seungyoun’s reflection growing bigger as he approaches, “I wasn’t really asking.”

Then Seungyoun’s hand is in his hair, tugging backwards to expose his throat, causing Wooseok to gasp — and the sound would have turned into a whine as Seungyoun begins working a mark onto the side of his neck, but Wooseok stops himself just in time. Seungyoun’s free hand comes up to his chest, ghosting over both nipples but not touching; drifting down to his stomach before settling on one of his hips. Seungyoun repositions him just so, the taller male rocking forward — and _oh_. Seungyoun’s half hard, grinding into the cleft of Wooseok’s ass, slow and languid and filthy and Seungyoun’s never like this; Seungyoun’s not supposed to know how to move his hips in a way that has Wooseok panting, the younger male’s length beginning to curve up towards his stomach.

“Look at you,” Seungyoun says, voice even lower than it normally is — the hand not tangled in Wooseok’s hair coming up to latch around a nipple. “you’re out of breath and I’m not even inside you.”

Wooseok can’t even find it in himself to protest, not when Seungyoun’s eyes find his in the mirror, the elder’s gaze dark and predatory and void of his usual hesitance — and Wooseok _moans_, rocking back against the other and gripping the edges of the sink for support; wishing more than anything that Seungyoun was fucking into him. Seungyoun must have read his mind, because the next thing Wooseok knows, he’s being told to reach behind the sink, hands closing around a familiar shape — and Wooseok figures that Yohan _really_ wasn’t joking when the younger said that he bought plenty.

Pretty soon he’s got his legs parted wide, three fingers slipping in and out of his taint — and even _this_ got better, Wooseok panting and leaning back against the other’s chest to try and ground himself. All it takes is a few of Wooseok’s breathless whines and whispered pleas for Seungyoun to replace those fingers with his own length, and this time when he presses in his thrusts aren’t slow and unhurried. Seungyoun starts up a bruising pace instead, large hands dragging Wooseok backwards to meet his every thrust, somehow managing to hit Wooseok’s spot every single time — and Wooseok’s moans start to bleed into each other, knuckles white as he struggles to hold himself up; eyes trained towards the mirror and never tearing from the other’s gaze.

Seungyoun wraps a hand around Wooseok’s cock when his hips begin to stutter; and it takes four, five strokes for Wooseok to come with a cry, ribbons of white spilling into the basin. Seungyoun fucks into him more relentlessly then, and Wooseok watches himself being used, watches himself bounce from the force of Seungyoun’s thrusts as he rides out his orgasm — and Seungyoun comes, movements ceasing as he spills inside the younger.

Wooseok will complain about it later, will pretend to be disgusted as Seungyoun’s come slips out of his ass — but right now, with Seungyoun pressing open-mouthed kisses onto his spine, Wooseok’s pretty much content.

* * *

The living room is within view of the kitchen, and Jinhyuk watches the others put up Christmas decorations as he marinates various strips of chicken — because, for some reason he cannot fathom, they had all agreed that waiting until Christmas Eve to plunge themselves into the festivities would be a great idea. Seungwoo is situated on his right, decorating the Christmas Cake they’d bought from the corner bakery, and Minhee is busying himself with the rice cake soup.

Jinhyuk hums as he takes the scene in — watches Hyeongjun and Dohyon wrap all of their presents meticulously, batting Yohan’s and Hangyul’s hands away whenever they try to help; watches Dongpyo and Eunsang struggle to string Christmas lights through the curtains in a way that looked halfway presentable; watches Seungyoun and Wooseok argue over who gets to place the star atop their six-foot-tall Christmas tree — and it’s true that Jinhyuk _does_ look like he’s out of it the majority of the time, but in reality he’s actually pretty observant; so much so that Jinhyuk knows what Seungyoun’s going to say the moment he opens his mouth.

“Wooseok,” Seungyoun begins as soon as Wooseok finishes placing the star on the tree (the younger looks absolutely pleased to have gotten his way, Jinhyuk notes), wrapping both arms around Wooseok’s waist to pull the shorter male against his chest — and Jinhyuk supposes that Seungyoun was trying to be quiet, but his voice still resonates throughout both rooms. “I think I’m in love with you.”

And suddenly everything is still, subtle glances being thrown towards the pair as they collectively hold their breath — “I’ve been in love with you for _years_, dumbass.” comes Wooseok’s reply, the words accompanied by a put-upon huff, but Jinhyuk doesn’t miss the pleased little quirk of Wooseok’s lips and the subtle blush blooming across his neck — and both rooms come back to life with a lot of teasing and wolf whistles and Hangyul laughing smugly as he holds both of his hands out in Yohan’s direction (“I told you it would only take two months.” “Hey, Cho Seungyoun! You couldn’t have waited four more weeks before confessing?”).

Out of the corner of his eye, Jinhyuk spots Seungwoo shaking his head, a fond little smile playing across the leader’s lips as he takes a sip of the wine he’d cracked open just an hour ago. Jinhyuk tilts his head towards the other curiously, a brow raised in question.

“What? It’s just,” Seungwoo looks hesitant, shy even, as he replies. “they seem really happy, is all.”

Jinhyuk can’t really argue with that, and so he nods in agreement, growing pensive immediately after.

“Seungwoo,” Jinhyuk finally says, after what seems like hours but is in fact just a mere five minutes of internal debate, “should we get married someday?”

**Author's Note:**

> I made X1 accounts. Come yell about Seungyoun, Wooseok, and this entire goddamn ship with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/seungseokhq) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/woodz_).


End file.
